


something 'bout the bright lights

by spj



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Multi, dance au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-22 09:03:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6073309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spj/pseuds/spj
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I don’t see the big deal,” Hermione said. “What if the Durmstrang students are nice?”</p><p>Harry privately agreed. Maybe this would be a good chance to branch out, see if the Durmstrang kids had some new cool dance styles he could learn. </p><p>Ron scoffed. “Nice? Nice? ‘Mione, it doesn’t matter if they’re nice! This is a battle! We’ve got to crush them! For our honor!”</p><p>(Or, in short, the 4th year Harry Potter dance!AU no one wanted.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	something 'bout the bright lights

**Author's Note:**

> so just like it says on the can, this is a harry potter dance!au. for now it's gen, but depending on how far i get or what happens i may ship and so i'll say right now that if i do, there will be gay. which shouldn't be a big deal, but may as well say it.
> 
> this [yt video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_bcncbwlXR4) right here inspired me. so if you got the time and inkling go watch it; it's pretty funny. title is from hedley's 'crazy for you,' song makes me want to dance. 
> 
> also, a lot of this story is going to be about street dance, mostly because the only things i know about dance are about bboying. that having been said, ive only been bboying for about a year, so i'm not very knowledgeable about the culture. i am learning, and i am trying to keep stuff in the fic accurate (some of it is in line with my own experiences), but honestly this is for fun. so, uh, don't walk out of it expecting to know much more about hip hop than you do now. im just faffing about.
> 
> oh last warnings: no beta, so tons of mistakes. i don't british at all, so this is all american-speak. i also can't really accent. 
> 
> alright, that's about it--enjoy!

Hogwarts is a school for magic. More specifically, for magical dancing. There are many different types of magic in the world—musical, martial arts, maths, biological, compassionate—everyone has some of magic. For those who fall into a specific category, they are invited to join a magic school. Hogwarts is one such school.

In Europe, there are two schools for magical dancing: Hogwarts, in Britain, and Durmstrang, in Norway. The differences between the styles two schools offer are nearly nonexistent, but let’s go over them lest we offend the PR teams.

Durmstrang markets itself as a school where the classics thrive. Ballet, ballroom, swing, and even contemporary and interpretive are all welcome and encouraged, according to the flier. The reality is the school values hard work and success, and has hired professors from all styles to help the students succeed. Durmstrang is particularly strong at ballet (well, not to take the stereotype too far, but it _is_ Scandinavia), popping, and swing.

Hogwarts markets itself as a school where everyone is welcome, even those without a particular style they prefer. The reality is… fairly close to that, except with an extra dose of reality. Hogwarts is essentially high school, so anyone who isn’t a part of a specific style will find it hard to breathe. Despite missing professors from certain styles (there is no professor who covers Baroque style, but there is, for some reason, one that specializes in the boogie), Hogwarts is strong in dances all across the board, especially ballroom, breaking, and house.

Now, it used to be that there was a massive dance competition for all magical dance schools across Europe called the Yule Dance Competition. But AV (After Volde-must-not-be-named-mort), most of the smaller magical dance schools were destroyed, and for the ones that remained, no one was willing to take responsibility for so many people in one small place, so the tradition ended. However, this was Harry Potter’s fourth year at Hogwarts, and Dumbledore was feeling rather optimistic. Perhaps it was time to bring back this ancient tradition. Yes, yes perhaps it was.

He tossed a small pinch of green powder into his fireplace. “Ahem, ahem, testing, one-two-three? Ah, yes, Hagrid?”

The man’s large beard appeared in the green fire first, before the rest of his head followed. “Ye, Headmaster?”

“Very good, very good. Yes, I believe it is time we hosted the Yule Dance Battle once again, is it not?”

Hagrid blinked. “The Yule Dance Battle? But… that hasn’t been done for the last fifteen years, sir!”

“Yes,” Dumbledore said patiently. “However, at a time like this, what we need is a little dancing to bring our spirits back to light! I trust I can leave the… oh, what do the children call it today—ah, yes, DJ to you?”

Hagrid’s face lit up.

Hagrid was not actually an alumni of Hogwarts. He had gone to a magical music school in Ireland, before they kicked him out for being a general disturbance. (So Hagrid liked to include a few dragons in his performances. It was healthy to have more than one hobby!)

Dumbledore had heard about his mixing prowess, however, and had hired him as the official music manager for Hogwarts. Music and dance were irreversibly entwined, after all. Hagrid had his hands full, hiring and booking bands and orchestras to play for the students, but it was a fun job, and he had met a bunch of cool people along the way. Now it looked like he would need them. Organizing a dance battle between a bunch of students, all of whom had wildly different styles?

This would be interesting.

 

“Harry, didja hear? They’re going to bring back the YDC!” Ron said, taking a running flip.

Harry, once again, felt extraordinarily confused. “The Y… DC?” he said, jogging to catch up.

Hermione sighed. “Harry, do keep up. ‘YDC’ stands for Yule Dance Competition. It’s a dance competition that used to be held yearly for the magical dance schools all across Europe. It seems as though it hasn’t been held in a while, and they’re going to bring it back this year.”

“Oh.”

Ron rolled his eyes and slapped Harry on the back. “Not, _oh_ , mate, it’s _oh yeah_! Because this year, yours truly is going to lead the bboys to victory.”

“Yeah, good on you for that, mate,” Harry said, smiling. Ron had just become a part of one of their school’s bboy crews, Natural Vibe, and since then had somehow worked it into all of their conversations. Harry didn’t particularly mind. Ron deserved to be extremely proud of this achievement. Having a crew was like having a second family, and finding that kind of bond with people who love the same thing you do was something to be proud of. For Ron especially, who had to live out the first two years of his Hogwarts experience in Harry’s shadow, becoming part of a crew under his own merit and skill… Harry was proud. Something like that was incredible.

Harry didn’t have a crew. Well, technically speaking Ron and Hermione were his crew, but in terms of dance, he didn’t have a crew.

Harry had to learn to make that distinction very early. There was dance, and there was life. Many people at Hogwarts couldn’t see the difference. Draco Malfoy, for one. That boy was a popper, and damn good at what he did. But for him, dance _was_ life, and he didn’t associate with people who weren’t in his crew, E-Z Funk.

Harry, if he were completely honest with himself, would have liked that kind of life. He thought it might be easier, just to make dance his life and be done with it. But he couldn’t.

And that was because, despite being the so-called “Chosen-One,” he had no particular talent in any given dance style.

He hoped sincerely that there was _something_ for him, some ultra-rare talent for some ultra-rare dance that hadn’t been found yet, but the statistical odds of that were unlikely. Hermione had run those by him. Besides, he had taken classes with every single professor at Hogwarts, and none of them, not even the most obscure traditional dances, had felt right.

“It’s about practice, Harry, not talent,” Hermione had sighed.

For her, those words meant more than just motivational poster advice. Hermione was one of those students who was admitted on minimal magical dance talent. She was _just_ on the threshold for the school to accept her based on her magical talent, and had gotten bullied a lot after entering because of it. However, she had chosen her favorite dance, ballroom, and stuck with it, until she became the single best ballroom dancer in the entire school (by majority vote; dancing is still a subjective opinion).

However, Harry would like to protest that it wasn’t that he didn’t practice. He practiced a lot, actually—not as much as Hermione, but a lot for someone who was supposed to have magical dance talent, and still nothing was falling into place. But maybe that had a lot to do how he couldn’t just _pick one_. Sometimes he practiced bboying with Ron, sometimes he tried to pop (and got laughed at by Draco and his crew), sometimes he worked on ballroom, and so on and so forth. By this point, he’s pretty decent in most styles, but nothing worthy of being Chosen for.

Before Harry’s mind could traverse this well-worn path, Hermione pulled him out of his thoughts. “There’s going to be another school coming to visit, I hear.”

“What?” Harry said. “There’s another magical dance school?”

Hermione looked as though she couldn’t decide if she wanted to bash Harry’s brains in with _Hogwarts, A History_ , or her own.

“Yeah,” Ron answered for her, unaware of the impending violence. “There’s two: Hogwarts and Durmstrang, which is in Russia. The YDC is inter-Europe, so we’ll be battling against those guys, Hogwarts versus Durmstrang. It’ll be _sick_.”

“Oh. We?”

“Well, I dunno. I think there’s some kind of way the contestants are chosen—plus, obviously there’s going to be informal dance-offs, what do they think we are—Fred and George were never very clear—”

Harry laughed. If it was Fred and George, then maybe he shouldn’t listen too hard to the given information. He was sure he’d find out eventually.

 

‘Eventually’ turned out to be next week, at dinner Wednesday.

The food appeared, as usual, but before everyone could dig in, Dumbledore stood up solemnly and held up a hand. “Bibbidy boo bop, sha wadda wadda,” he announced. He used to be a world-famous magical beatboxer, although Harry, privately, couldn’t see it.

When the murmuring refused to die down, McGonagall snapped, “Quiet!”

The hall silenced.

Dumbledore coughed. “Ahem, yes. As you all already seem to know, we, at Hogwarts, shall be hosting this year’s Yule Dance Competition!”

As expected, cheers erupted, and Dumbledore counted to five before holding up a regal hand for silence. “And,” he added, “in the interest of fun surprises, the Durmstrang students shall be arriving tonight! We have already added a magical extension to the school, not to worry, those of you hoping for a… how do the young’uns call it, Alastor?”

The grungy old capuera professor scowled.

Dumbledore’s face lit up. “Yes, an ‘adorable-meeting’! There shall be none of that, lads and lasses. Let the meetings take place on the dance floor! Yes, yes, after dinner tomorrow night, we shall be announcing the official representatives of our school for this year’s Yule Dance Competition! Although, I hope you shall all keep in mind, you are _all_ representatives of Hogwarts. May you bear our name honorably. Come, feast! I know you all will try dancing tonight!” He chortled, sitting down. “Young people.”

Ron immediately began to shovel food into his mouth with less decorum than usual.

“Ron!” said Hermione.

Ron looked up from a faceful of pudding and pie. Harry winced. “Sorry, ‘Mione,” Ron said. “Gotta get my strength up in case they decide to challenge us tonight. Harry, mate, after tonight, Hogwarts is gonna be at full-on _war_.”

“I don’t see the big deal,” Hermione said. “What if the Durmstrang students are nice?”

Harry privately agreed. Maybe this would be a good chance to branch out, see if the Durmstrang kids had some new cool dance styles he could learn.

Ron scoffed. “Nice? _Nice_? ‘Mione, it doesn’t _matter_ if they’re nice! This is a battle! We’ve got to crush them! For our _honor_!”

Hermione rolled her eyes and muttered something that sounded like _boys_ and Harry very much wanted to protest. He was a boy, and _he_ wasn’t… what did Hermione like to say? ‘Testosterone-riddled neurologically-degenerate second-hand evolutionary monkeys that would give anything to have the flexibility to make like a dog’?

Hermione caught Harry’s scrunched-up expression and sighed. “Do be safe, Harry. I know you’ve never wanted the ‘Chosen One’ attention, but you’re bound to be getting some. These are people how haven’t had a chance to get to know you, after all.”

Harry frowned. Ah, right. The Durmstrang students would have met his reputation before meeting him and deeming him not worthy of their attention as a dancer, so he’d have to be extra careful. In his first two years he was constantly getting challenged to dance-offs, and it wasn’t until word got out that he lost every single one that people eventually stopped. Actually, a dance-off was how he, Ron, and Hermione had all met, so on that note maybe he _would_ meet some nice people from Durmstrang. Positivity, Harry.

He ate his dinner in relative silence, anticipation curling at his stomach, composed mostly of fear, but also a small twitter of excitement for new experiences.

At last, dinner was through and the hall was thrumming with energy. Harry half expected his peers to leap up and start dancing on the tables right then and there. The tension grew until—

The Great Hall doors slammed open with a bang, and a huge procession of students dressed all in black marched in by fives. They must have practiced, Harry thought, since they seemed to know that the Great Hall couldn’t accommodate all of them, and marched in on two levels, the smaller students standing on the larger students’ shoulders. At the very back of the procession, the students formed something of a royal litter, with a sharp-looking man sitting regally on their backs.

Dumbledore stood up and yelled joyously, “Igor Karkaroff! How do you do?”

Karkaroff rolled his eyes and yelled back, “Well! And same to you!” Without so much an extra bounce he leapt off the litter, and, flipping twice in the air, landed neatly on one knee in front of the staff tables. “It is an honor to be here, Dumbledore.” He straightened. “My students are exhausted from our long journey. I understand the showcase is to be tomorrow; in that case, we would appreciate being shown to our quarters to rest for the night.”

The disappointed sighs from the Hogwarts students were just barely inaudible.

Dumbledore smiled broadly. “But of course! Right this way!” he said and lead the students out a side door that just appeared with the swish of Dumbledore’s wand. As he lead the procession out, he explained to Karkaroff, “We’ve set it all up quite nicely—an expanded tower! Two halves, one for the men and one for the women, and two students per room. We’ve invited Architects to come look at it…”

As soon as the magical door closed behind the last Durmstrang student, Jordan Lee leapt up onto the table and shouted, “To arms! To arms!”

Every student, no matter what style, heeded the call and erupted into cheers and shouts. Harry predicted a sleepless night, no matter what Karakoff had said about “resting in their rooms.”

“We’ll take them out tonight so they won’t have energy to even _stand_ tomorrow morning!” Hoots. “We’ll crush them hard! We’ll obliterate them! They won’t even know what hit them!” More hollering. “Or we aren’t Hogwarts _dance team_!”

The cheering was more deafening than the music at a jam, and Harry resisted the urge to bury his head in his hands. Hermione, however, had no such qualms and already procured a set of earmuffs from somewhere and had clamped them tight over her ears. Harry looked at her pleadingly, trying to convey, _please tell me you have an extra pair_.

In the midst of the yelling and shouting, there was suddenly a loud boom, and everyone looked over to the teacher’s area where Hagrid was standing on the table. “That’s betta,” Hagrid said, satisfied. “Now, I know Dumbledore told ye that there was gonna be an extra school showin’ up for the dance competition, ye, that’s Durmstrang. But now I’m gonna tell ye that there’s one more part to dancin’ than just dancin’ ye know.”

He paused for dramatic effect and was met with impatient stares.

He sighed. Teenagers. “And that’s _music_ ,” he continued. “Ye all know of the two great dance schools, Hogwarts and Durmstrang. Now lemme introduce to ye one of the great music schools: welcome to the Beauxbatons Academy students!”

As Hagrid was talking, a crowd of case-bearing students in blue shuffled in, talking and laughing amongst themselves—in _French_ no less. Their aura was much less intimidating than the militaristic Durmstrang students, and they seemed more like a rowdy bunch of teenagers than a well-trained music school. At the front of the crowd was a giant woman, brown hair twisted into an elegant knob. “Ah, is that you, Hagrid?”

“It is indeed, Olympe Maxime,” Hagrid said cheerfully. To the incredulous Hogwarts students he added, “These are the students who will be providing music and mixing for you during the official competition, and, if you like, during the non-official competitions as well. So please, make them feel welcome!”

“Thank you, Hagrid,” Maxime said, voice haughty and deep but smile wide. “Our students would like to be released from the burden of their instruments soon, however, so if you please…”

“Of course,” Hagrid said, and leapt down from the table to offer a hand to Maxime. Soon, the Beauxbatons students had also disappeared from the Great Hall, leaving only stunned Hogwarts students behind.

Harry turned to Hermione, who had taken off her headphones. “Hey… How big is this competition exactly?”

Hermione just sighed.

 

Ron, predictably, dragged Harry out of their dorm before he could go to bed. “C’mon! You can bet your bottom the Durmstrang kids are roaming the halls now too, so we gotta find one and do battle!”

“Why…” Harry moaned, wiping a hand over his eyes. He had just barely managed to snag a beanie before they left so he could use it to cover his scar. His bangs just didn’t do the job these days. “You know I don’t battle. I get crushed every time.”

Ron sighed like Harry was the stupid one. “You’re my _best friend_ , Harry, so _obviously_ you have to be there to rep.”

“What about Hermione,” Harry whined. “She’s also your best friend!”

“Hermione said no,” Ron said, shoulders slumping, dejected. “Said something about ‘ballroom’ and ‘class.’”

Harry shrugged; he could see it. Hermione did like to use ballroom as an excuse for her own hyper manners. Ron always bought it because Percy was also in ballroom, and Harry was willing to bet Percy’s manners were too mannerful for even the Queen.

“It’s not about class, Ron, it’s just that I want to get some sleep tonight before class tomorrow,” Harry protested.

“Think about it like practice! Real battling practice! You’ll do better in class tomorrow, mark my words.”

Harry would mark them, but it didn’t mean he thought they were true. “Don’t you want your crew members to back you up?” Harry tried.

Unluckily for Harry, Ron was already five steps ahead. “We’ll be meeting at the alcove with Hendrik the Horn-trumpeter. From there, it’s patrol until dawn.”

“So you don’t need me—”

“Harry! Best friend! Rep!”

Harry groaned and pulled his beanie further down over his head. He wanted to sleep. He could taste his bed. His pillow must be missing him. He knew he was missing it. “I’ll go with you for an hour, Ron. I can’t dance in class if I’m half-asleep.”

“Deal,” Ron said immediately.

“And don’t forget—”

“Your name is Harrison Evans and your parents are in the States,” Ron said obediently.

“Good.”

They reached the alcove with Hendrik the Horn-trumpeter and found Seamus Finnigan, Lee Jordan, and Luna Lovegood waiting.

“Luna?” Harry said, surprised. “I didn’t know you were part of Ron’s crew.”

“Yes, sometimes the storked-calf crow prefers to roost in the water instead of on land,” Luna said dreamily, and Harry reflected for not the first time that the only time Luna made sense was when she was dancing.

Ron motioned for them to huddle. “I heard there was a group of Durmstrangs on the third floor near Pinkstuff the Perished looking to battle. We’ll go ambush them there.”

Harry thought of something. “Hey, Ron. You say ambush, but… what are we gonna do about music? I doubt the Beauxbatons students are going to sacrifice a night’s sleep wandering the halls and looking for battles to DJ.”

“Bboys can dance to no music,” Ron said proudly.

Harry sighed. There was little point in arguing. “Let’s just go,” he said wearily.

The group of them tramped down the hall with little-to-no stealth. Harry was sure Hermione would give him an earful for this.

“Ron, seriously though, what is the plan actually,” Seamus said.

Lee Jordan looked affronted. “Uh, obviously, ambush and kill.”

“That is _not_ the plan,” Harry said, horrified.

“Perhaps it would be best for us to go visit a Hasselhorned beaver instead,” Luna suggested. “They mate in swarms in the Forbidden Forest around this time of night.”

“No!” the three boys chorused.

“Look,” Ron said. “We just approach the painting, and we call them out. Simple.”

Lee shrugged. “Sounds good to me,” he said. “Do your talking with your feet I always say.”

“You’ve never said anything of the kind,” Seamus said.

“It’s intent that matters, not semantics,” Lee said.

“But if the Lady of the Lake retrieves not one sword but two, then how do we know if the King is true?” Luna said.

Harry pulled his beanie down as far down as it would go and wished for it to swallow him. Anything would be better than following around these warmongering idiots and trying to remain undetected.

“What’re you boys doing out so late? Looking for a little late night fun?”

Harry slowly lifted his eyes from the ground up to see a crew of three Durmstrang students grinning wickedly down at them. He noticed for the first time that the Durmstrang dancers were _really tall_ and _really big_.

Ron put his hands on his hips, not at all fazed, and shot back at them, “Won’t be so fun when we beat your sorry arses.”

“Who said anything about beating anyone else?” the Durmstrang dancer said, holding his hands up in a gesture of peace. “We’re not technically supposed to dance except in official battles—you know, no sense in showing off our strengths so quickly, after all.”

“Will it help if we insulted your mothers,” Lee suggested. “I know a great deal of Yo Mama jokes.”

“Those jokes are an affront to humanity,” the Durmstrang dancer said. “Look, we can’t battle you, but we can have a friendly cypher if you can tell us one thing: what do you know about Harry Potter?”

“Harry Potter?” Harry yelped.

“Harry Potter?” Ron squeaked.

“Harry Potter!” Lee and Seamus chorused.

“Harry Potter,” Luna said. “Noun. In the dictionary he is described as the ‘Chosen One’ but I’d say his future is more of a moss green than the silver-blue of a prophecy, don’t you think? He’s got black hair after all—silver-blue would clash.”

“Silver-blue looks great with black hair,” Lee protested, shaking out his own black locks.

The Durmstrang dancer rolled his eyes. “Does he or does he not attend Hogwarts?”

“He does, but he keeps to himself,” Ron answered, shooting Harry a look when Harry frowned quickly at him. “No one really knows him well.”

Narrowing his eyes, but apparently convinced, the Durmstrang student said, “Fine. Alright then. As agreed, a friendly cypher.”

“I’ll handle music!” a girl with a mass of curly dark hair said, popping up from behind the crew of Durmstrang dancers. She held her hand out to the Hogwarts students. “I’m Tiffany ‘Bangled Owl’ Kurosaki. I’m usually known as just Owl, though.”

They all shook her hand, one by one, introducing themselves. Harry’s lie, thankfully, went undetected.

“We’re Natural Vibe,” Ron said.

The Durmstrang crew nodded. “We’re Night the Day. I’m Erik. This over here’s John, and that’s Anna. Let’s say everyone goes one round?”

A round of nods. They assembled into a loose circle in the corridor. Harry slipped out from behind Ron to stand next to Owl.

“Not dancing?” Erik called over.

“Don’t really like cyphering,” Harry said.

Erik shrugged. It wasn’t really his business anyway.

“Alright, hit it!” Owl hit the beat, starting with a trap mix. Lee, as predicted, went out first, and, also as predicted, went straight into his windmills. Harry sighed. Sometimes Lee failed to appreciate the finer things in life, such as, whatever wasn’t power moves.

Lee left the center to a round of applause from Natural Vibe, whopping at Lee’s unmistakable show of power. Harry expected Erik, who seemed like the leader, to answer the call, but to his surprise, Anna stepped out. And she was a house dancer.

And she crushed Lee. Using house standards to judge, her groove and flow was much better than Lee’s, who simply showed off his muscle tone.

Even Owl was impressed. “Fresh!” she said, throwing down a new track. House. Owl must have felt inspired.

One by one the dancers entered the cypher. Ron was holding back, but put on a good show and Harry leapt and hollered for his friend. Erik was a bboy, and put in a good mix of power moves and flow, so Harry gave him props for that too.

“You say you don’t dance,” Owl said, raising an eyebrow at him.

“I do, I just… don’t,” Harry stammered, trying to come up with an excuse fast enough that wouldn’t make him sound lame.

Owl just laughed and mixed in a new track.

Seamus went next, throwing in some pop and waacking for good fun.

On the Durmstrang side, John was a krumper, energetic and powerful. If these guys were any indication of their competition, then Hogwarts had its work cut out for them.

Finally, it was Luna’s turn. Harry watched with anticipation. He knew she had to be a bgirl, as a part of Ron’s breaking crew, but he could not imagine her throwing down the way Ron and Lee did.

Luna started by walking into the circle to the rhythm, as some bboys did, feeling for a groove and a beat first. As she began to move her body, Harry could feel the unmistakable bboy flavor, but Luna carried herself differently from Ron and Lee. She moved fluidly, but without a sense of where her limbs were going, unlike the efficiency of poppers; she let her body momentum carry her to where she would be next. She was free.

Harry smiled as she worked her way through freezes with a liquid chill. Luna was a breaker, alright, but as he should have expected, she followed no one’s expectations.

Owl cut the music.

“Nice job guys!”

After the customary round of handshakes, shoulder bumps, and friendly trash, Night the Day departed, leaving Natural Vibe alone with Owl.

“So, how’d you guys think I did?” Owl asked, packing her giant set of speakers and turntables up into a tiny bag. Magic.

Lee gave her an enthusiastic thumbs up. “Sick beats! Have you ever DJ’d for a dance competition before?”

Owl shook her head. “Not live. We record and then export some tracks to you guys. You guys have probably hired some of our alumni for your intra-school competitions though. You know DJ Track?”

Harry did a double take. Did they _know_ him? He was only the greatest DJ to ever grace the hallowed halls of Hogwarts! One time he DJ’d for the annual End-of-Year dance, and everyone danced for at least thirty-six hours straight.

Ron was equally as awed. “Merlin’s toes, _DJ Track_? He’s the greatest! He’s so fresh that the skeletons in the Hogwarts Crypt started dancing!”

“Hogwarts Crypt?” Owl and Harry said at the same time.

Ron shook his head and slung a hand over Harry’s shoulder. “Harr—ison, you really need to read _Hogwarts, A History_.”

Harry glared.

Owl just laughed. “Whatever. Either way, DJ Track is one of our professors. We learn from the best,” she preened.

Ron shook hands with her. “Then we’ll look forward to your music,” he said. “We’re gonna peace out now. You know how to get back?”

Owl’s face froze. “Umm…”

Harry was about to offer to take her back, but to his surprise, Luna beat him to it. “Don’t worry, bird of the night. I shall be your moon, and we may traverse the darkness together,” she said, holding a slender hand out to Owl.

“Riiiight, thanks, then,” Owl said, and after a split second hesitation, took Luna’s hand. They disappeared down the hall together.

Harry, Lee, and Ron stared.

“Mate,” Lee said, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone get used to Luna that fast before.”

Harry agreed. “Maybe music people are different,” he suggested.

Ron laughed. “Doubt it,” he said. “Some things are too crazy for everyone.”

**Author's Note:**

> liked? didn't like? wanna school me on hip hop? drop a note!


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